Covered In Roses
by Miss Meggie
Summary: Gemmacentric fic. Based on the song Mary by Patty Griffin! Fluer 27's X-mas present! Merry Christmas and enjoy!


**AN: I own nothing at all…This is a Christmas present for Fleur 27 she liked the song playing over Gemma's rape confession and upon hearing Mary by Patty Griffin I realized it was kind of Gemma's theme song. So this is a series of flashes into her life pre and during series. Ion nothing related to SOA or the song I'm using . Thanks to Angela for beta-ing Please review! I'm done rambling now. ~Meghan**

* * *

_Mary you are covered in roses…_

Those weren't even roses that lay over Donna's coffin, but carnations in trademark SAMCRO blue. Gemma had done the best she could by all the girls. Donna was a good girl; she loved deeply. She had believed Op could do better than to remain in the club, but as Gemma kissed her finger tips and placed them on the cool mahogany coffin, she wished Opie could have believed Donna that the club was not, in fact, the end all be all. It was her family and she loved them all fiercely, but in reality it was a ramshackle building filled with violent spoiled men who had killed a woman in her prime needlessly.

You're covered in ashes…

She didn't kill John but she didn't save him either. As she stood in the patch of road where John had been hit she realized she may as well have been covered in his ashes. You had to love the man… the Doctors said he should have died hours ago, but the son of bitch just wouldn't do what was expected of him and die. Ever the Anarchist he still held on. Piney had told her to go home and sleep for a bit, and yet she'd ended up here. Rain began to fall washing away her tears…

_You're covered in rain…_

_You're covered in babies…_

Gemma loved her club family; it was the only real family she'd ever had. A stripper with a coke habit for a mother, and a lazy bum drunkard father, she'd learned to make it on her own… and that's what she was doing when John Teller had found her in a bar in Nevada. He looked like a cross between Robert Redford and James Dean wearing a leather vest with an ugly ass insignia on the back offering her a good time and few fast rides: "maybe if you stick with me, little one, you'll have a place with us" he'd said. And for the first time since Wayne Unser had fumblingly told her that he knew she wouldn't believe him, but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and that he loved her, she felt her heart flip with John's quick and easy lopsided grin directed at her. She'd gotten on that old fat boy with him never looked back. Until the club needed a home base, then she'd returned to Charming with Jax on her hip and smile on her face. The club was hers as much as John's, and she was rarely scared of the Son's actions . But the latest of the turf wars with the Mayans required their first ever lock down at the club house.

Her hair pulled up to fight off the July heat and sticky sweat she went into the club house. Jax was yammering about some cartoon and that "Daddy needs to put a TV in here if he has to be stuck in here." Thomas was busy kicking her in the ribs.

"Opie will be here in a minute baby, and then you can play." She flicked on the lights and pulled the cord to start the ceiling fan.

"Opie is my best bud!"

"Yup, I know…" she grabbed the broom and began sweeping waiting for the other women to arrive.

Jax standing on his tip toes and stretching his arm out was able to roll the cue ball across the pool table. She watched him out of the corner of her wondering what was the point of his game. He was smart for his age only four.

Gemma, for the most part, liked the other "Old Ladies." Mary Winston didn't quite fit the mold but was an ok person. Luanne was sweet but rather lost in Otto's world. Clay's new sweet butt didn't have the brains god gave a dust bunny. Fiona Telford was a powerful bitch who scared shit out her. None of that mattered now though. They all sat in silence eating; the only noise being that of the boys spinning on their barstools and the scrape of silver-wear on plates.

"Stop spinning and eat Jackson."

"You too Op…"

"Yes, Ma'am . " they parroted.

Sometimes this life was tiring. She laid Jax on the bed in the upstairs apartment to sleep. Ruffling his hair she kissed his forehead. "Night Jaxy…love you…"

"Night Mama, love you… wait I got no night light."

"You mean you don't have a night light." She plugged in a neon Budweiser sign on the wall, the U flickering. "There ya go baby." She shut the door pausing on the stairs for a moment. Days like this she didn't feel a like a queen; just an old lady.

_You're covered in slashes…_

She stood in front of the mirror looking at the scar on her chest as it taunted her. Laughing at her, she'd done this to him; eighteen hours of labor and she knew she'd given Thomas her defect. _Arterial Septal Defect. _She hated herself that she'd made him defective. John came to stand behind her pulling her back against him he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Don't do that, it's not your fault baby. Besides, his could close off on its own like Jax's; don't blame yourself this is just life Gemma it's not anything you did."

"I'm their mother John, I'm supposed to protect them. I can't not from their own bodies…" she finished putting on her pajamas and crawled into the hospital bed; they wouldn't release her until tomorrow.

_You're covered in wilderness covered in stains_

_You cast aside the sheet you cast aside the shroud of another man who served the world proud. You greet another son you lose another one on some sunny day and always you stay Mary…_

Clay Morrow had always thought a lot of Gemma Teller. As his grandfather had been fond of saying "She was something else." She was tougher than a man, smart as hell, funny as all get out, and sexier than any woman had a right to be. He kept all those thoughts and compliments to himself though. She was his friend's wife and that made her forbidden.

Now, all of those wonderful things seemed to be marred and fading as he stood just outside Thomas' hospital room door. Thomas was dying and not one of them could stop it. The hole in his heart was too large to close and his heart was doing over time pumping the blood twice each time. He was going to have a heart attack at six. Life was fucked up.

If you looked at Gemma long enough you got the feeling her outsides looked like Tommy's insides. She looked battered and bruised. Her hair wild and unkempt, tears permanently stained her cheeks. Her eyes swollen and red, she looked so tired and gaunt that you'd think a mere whisper would blow her over. He stepped into the room as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake Tommy. "Here looks like you could use it." He handed her a styrofoam cup filled with shitty hospital coffee. Their finger tips brushed and in a quick silent moment they knew something had changed between them. Neither said anything.

Instead she said "I'm not leaving him."

"And I'm not making you…" he replied.

_And Jesus said mother I couldn't stay another day longer _

_Flys right by and leaves a kiss upon her face…_

They had removed him from the machines monitoring everything. If he was to die, he would be doing so in her arms. She sat in a rocker near his bed. A nurse handed him to her. She placed him so that she could feel the stuttering beat off his heart. His ragged labored breathing found rhythm with her rocking. He held on and on and on. Longer than anyone said he would. John stared blankly at the walls with red rimmed eyes and a tear stained face.

She whispered. "You can go now, it's ok…" in Thomas' ear and he went quietly. She felt his heart give up its struggle and his breathing end.

"He's gone." She told John. He simply nodded it was then she knew on some level John blamed her, even hated her.

_While the angels are singing his praises in a blaze of glory_

_Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place._

No one understood her need to do this and that was fine with her. She'd dressed Thomas everyday of his life and she would do it this final time.

"Its morbid he's dead baby…" John had said, Clay just sighed tiredly and went back to work.

She picked out his good navy blue suit that he only wore to funerals or if she let one of the other old ladies take him to church. She touched his hand first. He was cold stiff heavy like marble. She dressed him as he lay on a cold metal table.

His underwear… she wasn't sure he needed to have underwear on to gain entry into heaven but, she was a good mother and good mothers always made sure their kids had on clean underwear.

His pants… which were a little short; she guessed she missed his growth spurt in the chaos of trying to keep him alive.

His shirt…tie…and jacket which John had sewn the reaper patch on the inside of… his socks… and black dress shoes which Jax had shined for him. His way of helping. She struggled putting them on then the make-up artist walked over. "We don't put shoes on the body Ma'am the feet swell before death and there's no real point no one will see his feet."

"It does matter…his brother took the trouble to shine those shoes so bright that god could see his own refection in them and I didn't raise a hillbilly…they are going on." She finally got the shoes on silent tears streaming down her face.

She brushed his dark hair off his forehead. He looked more like her and Jackson was a living reflection of John. She straightened his tie; brushing her thumb down his nose.

"Bye Baby…" she turned to leave then turned back to his makeup artist.

"Please don't cover up his freckles…."

She had made the mess by giving him the defect and she had cleaned up as best she could.

_Mary she moves behind me she leaves her fingerprints everywhere every time the snow drifts every way the sand shifts even when the night lift she always there…_

Gemma could see that Tara was becoming more like her in small ways… she dressed different she was tougher… she could keep a secret like nobody's business. She liked the Knowles girl she was okay. She really hoped that they would make it because Tara made Jax happy and happiness was rare for Jackson.

If she had made it through the secrets and her own personal ruin anyone could she mused. She smiled at Tara as she passed her in the hall. "I said I'd put him to bed but Jax was adamant." Tara told her.

"He's more than capable when he feels like it." She said back.

_You're covered in tree tops covered in birds who sing a million songs without any words…._

She leaned on the doorjamb.

She watches him. Her son holding his son up to his bare chest. The back patch tat inked into his skin displayed unabashedly proud. His weight shifting from foot to foot, he softly hums something she knows but can't place. How had she created him? This man, so smart and gracious in his own way. He has become more attached to Abel since getting him back. More apt to spend time with him doing normal things like feeding him, bath time or putting him to bed. She got the feeling that Jax had gotten into the habit of touching Abel as if to make sure he was real or that he was in fact exactly where Jax had left him. Gemma realized that everything that really mattered to her was currently slow dancing to what sounded like "Baby Of Mine." From Dumbo. Jax had loved that movie she remembered. He lays Abel gently into the crib. "Night lil' man." He whispers kissing his forehead. "love you." Abel only snorts in response.

He turns seeing her. He stops in the door way to kiss her cheek. "Dumbo Huh?" she smirks at him.

"it works." He shrugs flipping off the light.

Whatever works she thought to herself. She didn't know what the future held for any of them but she did know she would do anything for all of them she would do whatever worked.

_Always you stay Mary…_


End file.
